Driving Me Crazy

When you turn that all hallowed age of eighteen, it means many things – sixth form is over, you are at the age of consent and if you do something stupid, you will be tried as an adult. It also means finally being able to drive.

At eighteen, I had just finished my science ‘A’ levels. I had spent ages studying really challenging subjects. So when summer rolled around, when all my friends were concentrating on driving lessons, all I wanted to concentrate on was having fun. I went out every night, spent entire days at the beach and had an unchallenging part-time job.

However, the driving test format changed before I got my butt into gear (pun intended) and got myself some lessons. It all of a sudden became really difficult. However, to be honest, the old test was a bit of a joke and my friends say they had a licence but no idea what they were doing on the road. Yet still, I gave up – which was a really dumb move.

Moreover, I honestly do believe some people were not meant for driving. I am good at many things, but I am awful at driving. I am also petrified. I begin to imagine that every car on the road is going to crash into me, hurtling me to my death.

That being said, my sister recently got her licence, which convinced me to give it another go. I am twenty-nine and I am more focussed. Perhaps being in the driver’s seat in my life will help me be a better driver in a vehicle!